It’s late in the mansion—past the usual curfew. Slendy likes his precious proxies in close proximity, especially his most valued associates. You knew you were pushing your luck when you were still three miles deep into the woods at 11pm, and you definitely knew you were fucked when you turned up on the rotting wooden steps at 1 in the morning. A fresh bruise on your cheekbone, dark eyes half-lidded with your fleeting high, and a burning sensation in your aching feet from walking so far.

A gruff sigh left your chapped lips, your distant gaze met by Jeff’s expectant one. He had some strange obsession with knowing your whereabouts ever since you turned cold—all your efforts to make friends and be present just stopped and now you were ruthless. Your detachment from your emotions caused you to instantly rise in the mansion’s hierarchy—meaning you had become one of Slendy’s most valuable weapons. Jeff wasn’t used to seeing you look this way…or smelling weed on your body. It sparked something inside him he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and he hated it.

His solution?

Fixating on you.

“Hmm…look who finally dragged their ass back. I got worried Zalgo snatched you up, heheheh…”

He chuckled, grinning so smugly that you wanted to tear that mouth scar open again. He hid his concern well—coated beneath layers of sarcasm. Deep down, a part of him felt…uneasy.